A Tale Of Two Brothers
by Midst Ride
Summary: Frank Hardy has been missing for 9 years, and everyone seems to have given up hope that he'll be found. Everyone, that is, except the Hardy family, who must pull off a master scheme if they want to get their son back alive.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, everyone. I'm **so **sorry this story took so long to post. Unfortunetly, I had no way to transport it to a computer where I could upload, so it took longer than I expected to get a flash drive and all. Thanks for your patience & I hope you review._

Midst Ride

_LiNe_

_Nine years earlier…_

_Hands grabbed at Frank, who had fallen into the woods. "Let me go!" Frank hollered. "I won't tell anybody, please, please, I won't tell anybody! Just let me go!" he yelled, kicking at the hands that tried to grab him. _

_He heard a rough voice scream at him, but he paid him no mind – all he wanted to do was get away! "Stop, please, don't hurt me, I didn't do anything, let me go!" he yelled as he attempted to crawl further into the woods. A stick scratched him, and he flew over a pile of wood._

"_Come on, buddy, we ain't gonna hurt ya," a mocking voice said. Frank tugged away from it, not believing the voice for a moment._

"_Somebody shut him up," hissed another voice. "We can't have people hearing us."_

"_It's the middle of the woods… nobody will hear him, just get the stupid kid back into the truck!" _

_  
LINE_

Frank awoke in the middle of his room. He grabbed his pillow and pulled his knees up to his chin. The memory was from nine years ago, the last time he'd seen anybody from his family. Frank was now 17, and he missed them terribly. Still, every time he tried to escape, he was severely punished. Even so, he still tried.

He still remembered the day he had been abducted like it was yesterday. His mother, Laura, had had an affair… and through the affair, had Frank. Frank had found out on the day he turned 8. Fenton had found out on the same day.

Fenton had yelled at Laura, screaming at the top of his lungs about how this was going to look in the public eye.

Joe had been only 7, and that morning, was sleeping in -- what had originally caused the argument. After unleashing a torment of words on Laura, Fenton had turned his anger on Frank. Frank still remembered Fenton's hurtful words: "I knew you weren't my son."

The occasion was Frank's eighth birthday. His legal father was suing for custody, and was supposed to arrive for a supervised visit that day.

Instead, the man had decided that a legal suit was too risky, and kidnapped him that afternoon, on Frank's way home from school.

Before that day, Frank had had no idea that he was unrelated to his father and only a half-brother to his real brother, Joe.

He rolled over in his bed and grabbed his clothes. He was expected to go to school like any other kid – after all, they couldn't look abnormal, now could they? He had tried to tell other people, but was always beaten or locked in a closet if he so much as breathed funny – his dad took no chances.

He sighed as he slipped on his thrift-store clothing. His father was one of the richest men in America, but still forced Frank to buy used things, unwilling to give him basic necessities – such as food – unless he worked for it.

Frank grabbed his books and headed out the door, wondering if there would be any transfer students. It was the interim grading, and if transfers were going to come in then, that's when they'd come in. No acceptations.

Frank wolfed down his breakfast, grabbed his bookbag and headed for school. It was only a block away and Frank didn't bother riding the bus. He loved to walk; it was his chance for freedom throughout the day.

He slumped into his social studies seat just as the bell rang. He passed in his homework, hoping he'd at least have some of the answers right – he was sure he hadn't done a good job of studying. Social studies just didn't relate to him this year, and he was pretty sure it was because of his teacher.

"Excuse me!" the teacher said, slamming her ruler on her desk. "We have a new student this year. His name is Joseph Reynolds… Joe, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

Frank's eyes widened. Joe? His real brother's name was Joe! This looked like Joe! Could it be Joe? No… that was impossible. There was no way…

"I'm seventeen and I liked my old school." Joe slumped down into the desk. The teacher smiled nervously and turned back to the board.

Frank sank back down in his desk. Joe would be 16 now, not seventeen. So much for hope. "Frank?" the teacher asked. "Are you on the same planet as us? I asked you if you had done your homework."

"Yeah, I turned it in with the stack, Mrs. McCarthy," he said. "It should be there."

"Oh, here it is. I knew I'd gone blind. Okay… Class… We're going to be working on discovering groups of people today… specifically, we're going to be debating about Christopher Columbus…"

Frank snorted. Christopher Columbus was for babies. Everybody knew about him. Every little detail. She'd been going over him for the last five weeks and he was sick of it.

"Today," the teacher said in a fake-happy voice, "we're going to be discussing about how Christopher Columbus thought it was not America. Any comments?"

Joe raised his hand. "Yeah. I think that in social studies, you should stop studying Christopher Columbus. I mean, we've heard about him from the time we were… what? Ten?"

"I'm so glad you've expressed your opinion!" the teacher said. Several of the football players gave Joe an amused look. "Today is the _last_ day we're doing Christopher Columbus… Tomorrow, we embark on a new person… and guess what, class, we're doing someone so exiting, that you all might just _die_ of the excitement!"

"Paris Hilton?" one of the guys in the back asked.

The teacher smiled. "Nope… Guess again!"

Frank rolled his eyes. His teacher should have gone for the "early childhood" degree program. "We're studying PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS! It's a new day, people; we'll be studying famous people – who existed in _this_ century! Can't you believe the excitement? What did they do to become famous? Why are they famous? And guess what -- anybody who does a report on the most famous PI of all, FENTON HARDY, will get an extra credit… FIVE POINTS!" She smiled and turned to the blackboard. "Now, Christopher Columbus…"

Frank's face paled in sheer horror. She just had to pick an interesting topic that had to involve _him_! If his dad found out, he'd move in a heartbeat, before he got a chance to investigate the new kid, who he was positive was Joe… even if his name was Joseph Reynolds and was "17."

"I think I'm gunna be sick," he as a thought hit him, and he raced out the door to the nurse's office.

_Fenton Hardy was famous?! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Since I'm gone the rest of the week, you can have this chapter now. I may get to the chapter until Monday--if I don't, sorry! Please continue to review anyway. :) Or else. Mwahhaha! (Just kidding, just kidding...)_

_Line_

"ATTENTION, CLASS," Frank's social studies teacher shouted. "Does anyone have their report on Fenton Hardy ready to turn in? If so… turn it in!" A few people handed in papers. Joe Reynolds, the new kid, wasn't one of them.

"You don't have a paper?" Mrs. McCarthy said, approaching his desk.

"I don't even see why we're studying Fenton Hardy, he's stupid. Didn't ya'll know he had a kid who disappeared when he was eight and never bothered to look for him once?" Joe snorted.

_He didn't even look for me? _Tears caught in Frank's throat but he forced them back. What did he expect, anyway?

"That's very interesting, Joe. How did you know that?" the teacher asked. "And if you know so much, why didn't you do your report?"

"Because the assignment's stupid, that's why. We're studying social sciences, not Fenton Hardy."

The teacher stiffened. "As a matter of fact, we _ARE_ studying Fenton Hardy, Joe."

She went up front and wrote the words "PRIVATE INVESTIGATER" on the board. "What do these words mean to you?"

Frank opened his notebook and scribbled, _"Joe Reynolds, 17. New subj. of observation. Says Fenton never bothered to look for his eight year-old-kid, which is me." _He closed the book and glanced up at Joe. He was sitting nonchalantly, almost _too_ nonchalantly. He opened his book, and scribbled in it again: _I think he's really Joe Hardy._

_Line_

Frank was able to corner Joe in the lunch line. "Hey, Joe, you got a seat for lunch?"

"Does it matter?" he snorted.

"You can sit with me." When they filed through the line, Frank led Joe to his table. Nobody was there today, as usual.

"I see you have loads of friends," Joe snorted as he opened his pudding.

"Daniel has a different class period. He's my only real friend; my father is a jerk. So why'd you move?"

"What do you mean by _move_?" Joe asked, his fingers tensing.

"I mean why did you transfer them in the middle of the grading card period?" Frank took a big bight of his sandwich, watching him with interest.

"Because my father," Joe said, dipping his fries into his pudding, "is also a jerk."

"How did you know so much about Fenton Hardy? I've been studying the j… guy for quite awhile now."

"Why?" Joe snorted. "And there's such a thing as a _search engine." _

"You found all this on a search engine?" Frank rolled his eyes.

"," Joe said. "What, you never heard of it before?"

"I don't have a computer. Well, my dad doesn't let me use his."

Joe laughed. "My dad's not that much of a pain. You got any siblings?"

"Nope," Frank said, "not to my knowledge, anyway. You?"

Joe sighed and looked around. "One," he said, sadly. "He died a long time ago."

"Oh," Frank said. "Sorry." At that moment, the lunch bell rang and Frank and Joe took off to separate classes. Luckily, Frank had study hall that period.

He turned to a fresh page of his notebook. "_Joe says he had a sibling who died 'a long time ago.' He also says his dad is a pain. Knew Fenton had a child who disappeared a long time ago but says he got it off of Wikapedia. Age is 17, but acts suspiciously like my…." _

Frank closed the notebook and finished his homework. He couldn't write down his thoughts for fear that his father would find his notebook.

After school, when he went outside, he was surprised to see Joe arguing with somebody.

_No way! _Frank thought. _Fenton Hardy? Could it be…?_

He winced as the man – presumably Joe's father – shoved him into the wall. "You _will_ listen to me," Frank heard the man yell.

"Hey, you!" Frank yelled. "Back off!" He shoved the man out of the way and noticed the visibly relieved look on Joe's face.

The man threw him to the ground. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, kneeling down and looking at Frank. He glanced up as students started to trickle out of the school, and he grabbed Joe's arm. "Don't tell anyone or you're _dead_," he said, dragging Joe towards the pickup truck.

_I've gotta get my hands on a computer_, Frank thought, and decided to heads towards the library.

Before he left, though, he wrote down these facts in his notebook: "_Joe's father looks like him. He has blond hair; Fenton Hardy has brown hair – at least last I remembered. Possibly abusive; Joe did say he was a 'pain' – after he said he was a jerk. Shoved me to the ground and said that if I told anyone, I'd die. Well, specifically, I'm dead, but who's counting?"_

Frank sighed as he grabbed his bike and headed for the local library, hoping he could get home before his father. The last time he hadn't it had been disastrous.

He logged on to the computer quickly, and then went to .

"Fenton Hardy… Fenton Hardy…", he muttered, typing in the name.

Frank skipped over the boring parts and the stuff he already knew. Then he got down to the interesting part.

"_Fenton Hardy had two kids, one named Joe Hardy and the other named Frank Hardy. Frank Hardy went missing at the age of eight and was declared dead when he would have been aged ten. The grief tore the family apart and Joe Hardy was moved in with his uncle, Jamey Reynolds, when he was just 14. Jamey sued for custody and got it. The Hardy's had one more son named Jesse who died at birth…"_

Frank paled. He was declared _dead_? Joe was living with his _uncle_? What was going on?

Why did Joe say he was 17? Frank counted the years. He had been abducted when he was eight. Joe was seven. It was nine years later, and he was seventeen. Joe would be, should be…

_Hmmm… _Could it be part of his father's master scheme? Frank hoped so. He hoped his father didn't really believe he was dead.

That being said, he didn't know what to believe anymore.

He glanced at the clock and his face paled. Four o'clock! His father was sure to kill him!

He grabbed his school stuff and ran out the door. "Come on, be late," he muttered, opening the door.

He breathed a big sigh of relief. He knew he could use the phone and try and call Joe; or use the computer and email someone. But then again, the last time he'd tried that, he'd been badly beaten.

He grabbed his notebook and scribbled, "_Joe could possibly be Joe Hardy, and I think he is. But why would he tell me about Wikapedia? Does he think I'm Frank, or does he not suspect? After all, they call me Frank. Does he even remember me? What I look like?" _

Frank slammed the book into his hidden door as he heard his father open the door. He put down his homework, and started doing his social studies report.

"FRANK!" His father yelled. Frank bolted for the kitchen.

"Yes, sir?" he asked timidly.

"What is this mess?" his father demanded. "You left your milk out! That can spoil!"

"I didn't leave that out! I don't even have cereal," Frank protested.

"I saw you at the library today," his father said, his face turning bright red. "You are SO dead."


	3. Chapter 3

Frank was thrown roughly on the floor. "What were you doing there?" his father demanded as he kicked Frank in the side, dragging them to the hallway closet.

"Ow! I didn' do no'tn'!" Frank shouted. "Let me go!"

"You were at the library," his father said, "after I _told_ you not to go there. Why?"

"You gave me a library card," Frank protested meekly.

"Yes… Which is for _books_. Still. I will pick them up!" his father kicked him again. "You are not allowed to go there! Why were you on the computer? You know that's against the rules!" His fingers fastened on his belt and Frank tensed.

"Mrs. McCarthy wanted us to look up some stuff," Frank said. It was partially true.

"The annoying piece of crap of a social teacher?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"I can't believe you want to get a good GPA. Why even bother? It's not like you're going to college," his father said angrily. "Don't let me catch you again, Franklin Ackland!"

Frank winced as he was roughly thrown into the closet. Well, at least he'd hidden a notebook and pen in here; he could write.

The door locked and Frank sighed. _Idiot, _he thought, _idiot, idiot, idiot. _

He grabbed his notebook and looked at what he'd wrote the previous time he was locked in here. It wasn't much. Frank had notebooks stashed around the house. He never kept them in his backpack – one night, in a rage, his father had ripped every notebook in his backpack. The next day, they'd moved, and Frank had learned that keeping all his notebooks in one place was a bad idea.

He just hoped he'd hidden the notebook on the new kid well enough.

--

Joe was angrily pacing the streets of the town. He'd followed Frank home and was wondering what to do. _"He reminds me so much of Frank!" _he thought. "_He could be Frank… Maybe Dad's idea will work out… But should I say anything_?" He flipped open the phone. He loved how Wikapedia was person-edited; people believed whatever google said.

Truth was he was living with his uncle, who was pretending to be somewhat abusive. He had to give Frank a reason to "keep an eye on him". He casually looked around at the nearby area.

It actually seemed pretty nice… which was surprising. The clothes that Frank had worn earlier weren't Navy or Gap, typical of the area. They weren't even Abercrombie and Finch. Not that clothes really mattered to Joe, since his own clothes were practically threadbare.

"If only I could remember his last name," he muttered.

He sighed and then shrugged as he pulled open his cell phone. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Joe. Any leads yet?" his father asked.

"Yeah, I've got a lead on someone who I think is Frank. I'm at his house right now."

"That's a good idea," his father said sarcastically. "Be very careful, Joseph. Don't let his father 'remember' you."

"Can do. At least I'll try too, anyway. Dad…" Joe recited the address, and his father promised to look into it.

He closed the cell phone and rang the doorbell. A man, who didn't look in the least like Frank, popped out. "May I ask, who is this?"

"Joseph Reynolds, sir," Joe lied. "I'd like to speak with Frank, Ummm… I don't remember his last name… But I have some homework questions," he said. It was partially true. He did have some homework – from his father.

"I can do this. Stay here a moment, please, and I'll see if Frank will receive your invitation."

Joe rolled his eyes at the overkill. _They're protecting something,_ he thought. _But what?_

Frank appeared at the door a few minutes later. He looked around, then shut the door behind him. "What'dya want?"

"Homework help," Joe admitted.

Frank laughed. "Why? Mrs. McCarthy too tough for you?"

"Ugh! She's the worst friggin' teacher _ever_! She is such… a… pain!" Joe sighed. "No… But can you help me?"

Frank seemed to pick up the cue and led the way up to his room.

"Wow," Joe muttered. He wondered if this was Frank's real room, or if it was just for show. He used to have someone who had a show room once. Their real room was in the basement.

The room was impersonal. The bedspread was pale blue and the room was painted a pale red. It was actually pretty calming, yet Joe was aware that there were no wall decorations or family photographs or even photographs of Frank and his friends. Frank could easily have two rooms; this room for show and another room off somewhere else that wasn't nearly so nice. Joe shook his head. _It didn't matter. _

"What ya need?" Frank asked, removing his sneakers before he sat on his bed.

Joe did the same. "I can't understand anything about Mrs. McCarthy. Yeah, the work is simple -- but I don't understand. And why are we covering Fenton Hardy? I thought we were covering _all_ private investigators. And for Pete's sake! Why the big time jump?"

"Because Fenton's the most famous one." Frank pulled his knees to his chin and gave him a small smile. "Dude…. Can I ask you a question?"

"What?" Joe asked.

"Why was your dad ticked earlier, and why was he ticked at me? I ain't done nothing against him."

Joe smiled inwardly, but pretended to look uncomfortable. He and his uncle had apparently played the part well. "He's like that sometimes. Like I said, he's a jerk."

Frank frowned but dropped the subject, tugging at Joe's schoolwork books. "Let's see. If I know Mrs. McCarthy, the only reason why she's doing Fenton Hardy is because she's gotten several complaints on Christopher Columbus. I'm not sure why there was such a big jump. There's a long time between the two."

"Did you look on Wikapedia?" Joe asked him.

"With what computer?" Frank retorted.

Joe frowned. He had seen Frank go to the library, so perhaps it was possible. But still. "But why Columbus and then Fenton? I don't get it! They're too totally different people. And we aren't even studying anybody else, just the jerk himself."

The door swung open, and a man, maybe Frank's dad, appeared. "Frank? Supper will be at six tonight. I will be late, so please begin without me."

"Yes, sir," Frank said. Joe looked at the man. He was dressed in a dark suit with a navy-blue tie and a Rolex watch.

_Obviously, this dude is really high up, _Joe thought to himself. He didn't fail to notice, however, that Frank was practically terrified of him.

"_He looks so much like Frank," _Joe said to himself._ "So much just like Frank…"_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for all reviews! _

Frank was relieved when Joe left. He went downstairs and ate supper, wondering about their talk and why exactly he'd come over. Also, how did he find Frank's house?

_Did he follow me home? _Frank wondered. He could have, although it would've been a long wait between the library and here. But – didn't he leave in a truck with his dad?

He shook his head and sighed. There was a _lot_ that didn't make since.

He was relieved that Joe had come, though. This way, he was able to do his homework and not receive an F. Also, he really hated spending his entire evening locked away in a closet (although it was preferable to getting beaten up by his dad or his dad's goons).

"Frank?" His father called as Frank was finishing supper. "May I ask you a question?"

Frank looked up warily. "Do I have a choice?" he asked.

"Not really." His father crossed his arms as Frank washed his dishes. "What was that kid doing over here? Who did he think he was?"

"He's a kid from my class," Frank said. True. "He wa-I mean, he said – I mean, he _did_ need some help on his homework."

"I see." His father sighed. "Frank, you know I'm not against you making friends; however you _do _know we have to be careful. You remember what'll happen if you tell anyone, right?" he asked. He placed Frank's dish in the sink and mumbled something about the maid getting it.

"Y-yes," Frank stuttered. He took a minute to calm himself down, then he said, "I remember."

"Don't stutter," his father said, "You're seventeen, not a baby."

"I'm sorry," Frank apologized instantly.

His father sighed. "Frank, I wish you trusted me. I'm not an asshole all the time."

At that, he left the room and Frank sighed. _Yeah, so you kidnapped me, beat me up half the time, and now that I'm seventeen, you want me to start trusting you? No way in hell. No. Way. In. Hell. _

_LINE_

"Dad, you came!" Joe exclaimed, giving him a big hug.

"Here's a photo-enhancement of Frank," his father said. "I got here as quick as I could. Let me see those pictures of his neighborhood."

"Will do. Guess what, Dad. We're studying you in Social Studies."

Fenton smiled. "I bet you had a few things too say."

"Didn't say much; spilled that line about you 'not looking' for your child at eight. I could feel the tension in the air."

"From this Frank kid?" Fenton asked. Joe nodded.

"You know, you could've gotten the wrong kid," Jamey mused. "He could know your entire 'background' from Wikapedia. He could be a gold-digger, or something. I'm not out to prove you wrong, I just want to focus on _all _the points. Plus, we can't go barging in this guy's home without probable cause."

"Even if we did get the wrong kid, which I think is unlikely," Joe said, placing the photographs on the table, "I want to help him. His dad must be really whacked."

"What do you mean?" Fenton asked.

"Well, he was in the same room as Frank and me yesterday. This kid was terrified, Dad."

Fenton frowned. "Where are you going with this, Joe?" he asked, knowing that more than likely something else was bugging Joe entirely.

Joe took a deep breath. "Dad, you should have seen Frank's reaction to his 'father.' He was petrified, Dad. I have the feeling he doesn't get along with him very well. Also, Frank packs his lunch, and it's your basic baloney sandwich. His 'room' was very nice and very professionally done, but it was void of any personal objects or pictures."

Fenton paused. "I see where you're going with this," he said. "You think Frank's dad, say, abuses him, and has another room in the basement that's his?"

"I'm not sure. But I had a bad feeling." Joe sighed and glanced at the picture of Frank. Frank had gone missing when he was eight; this photo had been enhanced nine years. "Dad…," he said, looking at the photograph, "this is him."

--


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks for all your lovely reviews. Now that I have time, I will respond to as many of them as I can. Thank you!!_

There were plenty of reasons Frank hated social studies with a passion. His social studies teacher, Mrs. McCarthy, had announced a "guest speaker" today.

"AND IT IS … DRUMROLL, PLEASE… FENTON HARDY!"

Frank watched Joe's reaction. He'd switched seats with another kid, and was now sitting directly behind Joe. Joe's fingers tensed and they enclosed on his social studies book.

"_Fenton Hardy – guest. Joe's fingers tense; he encloses them around a book. Fidgeting." _Frank closed his book.

Frank studied Fenton. He had been longing to see his father for nine long years, and now that he'd seen him, he wasn't sure quite what to think.

Fenton was talking about how to track down a criminal. Mrs. McCarthy said there would be a pop quiz at the end, but Frank was hardly paying attention.

"WOULD FRANK ADAMS PLEASE COME TO THE OFFICE? ADAMS, FRANK." Frank sighed and got out of his chair, throwing his desk into his backpack. "ADAMS, FRANK. There's been a family emergency… I repeat, a FAMILY EMERGANCY. ADAMS, FRANK."

_Crud. _Frank raced towards his locker and emptied the entire thing into his backpack before he raced towards the office. He knew what was going to happen – his father was going to move them. The family emergency was that Fenton had finally tracked them down. After just a brief moment of discussion, the principle left them alone.

"Frank. We have to leave, now," his father said. "I just saw Fenton in the neighborhood."

"But I don't _wanna_ go," Frank protested, "I wanna stay with him. I hate living with you."

His father grabbed his arm and said a word that made the principle flinch. "Fine, since you're acting like a ten year old I'll treat you like a ten year old. Quick, let's go."

--

Joe glanced as Frank somberly led his way out the door. His father started talking about "group activities," so as soon as everyone stood up, he raced out of the room.

He saw Frank's father dragging Frank out of the hallway, his hand firmly fastened on Frank wrist. Frank was fighting back, but he wasn't getting anywhere. The hall was strangely void of teachers or hall monitors.

"_I wonder if someone was paid off…" _Joe wondered. He didn't have time to contemplate the idea, though, because Frank's father already had him out the door.

Joe raced after him. "Frank! Wait! You forgot your quiz sheet," he said in an attempt to stall them.

Frank's father grabbed him by the arm. _"You_ are dangerous. You're coming with us," he said, tossing Joe in the back seat.

"Hey!" Joe protested. Frank's father was already in the driver's seat and they sped off.

Joe tried to unlock the door but he found he couldn't from the back seat. There were locks but only the driver could operate them.

"Great job, Frank!" Frank's father yelled. "You better pray we get away or there'll be hell to pay later!"

The tires of the SUV squealed to a stop in front of Frank's house. Both Frank and Joe were quickly led out of the SUV and hauled into the trunk of another car. The lid slammed, and there was silence. Not too long afterwards, though, the car squealed off.

"What the heck were you _thinking_?" Frank asked. "My dad's dangerous, Joe!"

"Ooooh." The car hit a speed bump and went flying. "Don't – gotta – tell me that now. I know."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Joe, who's your real dad?"

"Stephen Reynolds," Joe lied.

"Yeah _right_. I saw the way you looked at Fenton Hardy today. Don't even attempt to fool me with that crap."

"Okay, okay," Joe said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll spill."

--

After Fenton was done with his presentation (and Joe and was right; the woman was crazy,) he raced out to the hallway and into the principle's office. "Have you seen Joe Reynolds?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry, I haven't. And you are…?"

"Fenton Hardy," Fenton said. He pointed to his nametag. "I was here for a class presentation for Mrs. McCarthy."

"Right, right." The man nodded. "I haven't seen him, I'm sorry. And you are related to him how?"

"I'm his father."

"But you have different last names."

"He lives with his uncle. I take care of him sometimes. Look, Mr.… Wolfe, it's really important. Can I see the security cameras?"

Mr. Wolfe glared at him. "I'm afraid that's impossible. You have no probable cause."

"I believe Joe Hardy was abducted."

"And I believe you're insane. We keep a tight lock on all the school doors."

"Get me the sign up sheet then. _NOW_," Fenton hissed. Mr. Wolfe wisely did as he was told.

After a brief glance at the sheet, Fenton paled.

The last person to sign in was Mr. Adams… Frank's biological father. And they'd left, and Joe was nowhere to be seen. It didn't take very long to put two and two together. "Mr. Wolfe," he said, "Call the police – _now_."

--

"I'm Joseph Hardy. I was here – investigating something," Joe said, not really sure how much to give away.

Frank laughed. "So my suspicions were right. I thought you were. I have a whole… Oh, no."

"Oh, no, what? I don't like oh no's."

"I left my notebook on you at my dad's house. It's stashed, though. Pray he doesn't find it. And Joe? Pray hard."

--

Fenton was surprised at how quickly he'd been able to get a search warrant for the Adam's house. It hadn't been quickly enough, though, they'd already left and moved most stuff out. All that was left were impersonal items.

"Search every crook and cranny," he said, "anything that looks like it could be important or unimportant."

After a brief search of the house, seven multi-colored notebooks were found. Fenton grabbed them and sat down on the oversized sofa.

The first two were for school; Fenton dismissed them. The third one, however, was an "investigative" notebook. _"Joe Reynolds, 17. New subj. of observation. Says Fenton never bothered to look for his eight year-old-kid, which is me." _

Fenton sighed at the words. He'd looked for Frank and he'd looked for Frank and he'd looked for Frank. It had been Gertrude's idea to declare him officially dead when he was just ten. But Fenton had followed every lead he'd gotten – and one of them took him here. Surely, Frank had to have recognized him!

Of course, he had been gone eight years. It was possible he'd been brainwashed. But still. Fenton wasn't quite sure what to think about the whole situation.

All he knew was that something was very, very, wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Thanks for everything and all the reviews. Sorry I can't edit this chapter today, I hope it's readable for anyone. Send me any complaints, and I'll try and fix them. I don't know when I'll be able to post chapter seven, as we hav sevreal events going on this weekend. Thanks for your kind words, Midst Ride _ "You have a _notebook_ on me? What do you mean by that?" Joe asked, totally confused.

"I had you as my 'subject of observation' for awhile. I thought you might be my b- somebody else." Frank didn't dare give away the fact that he knew Joe was his brother.

Joe nodded. "Yeah…"

"So Fenton never really bothered to look for his eight year old kid? What a piece of crap." Frank again choked back tears. "If I were that kid – I'd..."

Joe sighed. "No. He looked for that kid a lot. That's just a lie Wikapedia got on it to make for some 'interesting conversation.'"

Frank frowned. "First you tell me he didn't even bother to look for his kid, then you tell me..."

Joe sighed. "Never mind, Frank. Never mind."

The car pulled to a stop and both Frank and Joe were forced out of the trunk. "Take them to Safe House A-5-31-32-36," a man said. Neither Frank, nor Joe, recognized him.

"Where's my dad?" Frank demanded. The man just tied his hands behind his back and didn't answer. He did the same to Joe's and they were escorted into a large Semi Truck. "If I so much as hear you whisper," the driver growled, "you're a dead man."

Frank didn't say anything as they were forced into the truck and as the door was closed. Only Joe dared to say two words.

"We're screwed."

--

"Hey, Stephen," Fenton said, discouraged. "Any news?"

"Wolfe still is refusing to hand over the cameras – even with the search warrant. I'm guessing we'll have to get SWAT in there, or something. The police of chief wants to talk to you. Sam Radley, Laura and Gertrude are on their way."

"That's good. I can't believe I let them slip out of my fingers!" Fenton yelled, slamming his fist on the table and knocking over a half-drunken Coke. Neither man appeared to notice.

"It's not your fault, Fenton," Stephen said reassuringly. "Joe shouldn't have gone after them."

"I had Frank right there. Right there. So close I could reach out and hug him. But I didn't. I'm sure he hates me now," Fenton said with a sigh. "And not only that, Joe let it slip that 'I didn't search for Frank.' I'm worried, Stephen, I'm really worried."

"We all are, aren't we? But beating yourself up over this isn't going to help. Get another cup of coffee from the pot and let's go see if we can convince Wolfe that the police officers in this town can't be bought off."

--

Frank had fallen asleep, but Joe was still awake, staring longingly at the walls. He missed his dad already. He had no idea how Frank had gone through nine years. _"I know it's you, buddy," _he whispered.

After a particularly harsh bump Frank awoke. "You ok, Joe?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Frank sighed. "I can't believe Dad didn't even look for me…" Tears spilled through his eyes. "Waited nine freakin' years to see his face and all I get is this lecture on how to catch a robber…."

"You don't get it, Frank. He did look for you. Day and night."

"He declared me dead when I was ten!" Frank yelled. "Ten, Joe. Did I mean so little to him? So little to him that only two years and he didn't care? Do you know what he said on the day I went missing, Joe? He said _I knew you weren't my son."_

Joe took in a sharp breath. Yes, his father had told him about that and about how much he'd regretted those words. Frank was only eight at the time but clearly he remembered and they'd had a huge impact on his life.

"And now to hear that he doesn't even give a crap and wants me to live with my psycho father? Great! I'll go live with him! See if I care! Do you know what I did, Joe? When I was younger, I used to try to escape. Dad would beat the shit out of me. Then I tried again and again. I stopped when I was 14 and picked up again when I was 15. I wanted a loving family, but clearly, NOBODY CARES!" Frank pounded his fist on the wall.

"Hey!" Joe yelled. "That's not true. I _cared_! And it wasn't Dad's idea to declare you dead, it was Gertrude's! She thought it would look better in the public eye!"

Frank calmed down a little bit. "I never did like Gertrude." He sighed. "You know I have a 3.7 in all my classes?"

Joe smirked. "In Mrs. McCarthy's class that ain't hard."

Frank sighed. "He said I was never goin' to college, so why did I even care?" He sighed and looked dejectedly at is shoes, which had seen better days.

Joe grimaced slightly. "You know how you always had a 4.0 before you disappeared? When you vanished, I said, 'Since Frank's not here, I'll fill his shoes.' I pulled my GPA up from a 2.5 to a 4.0 in less then two months."

Frank smiled. "And here I thought you'd flunk a grade. Was all worried about that."

"Ha! Me, flunk? Never," Joe protested.

"Yeah, and you didn't flunk kindergarten either," Frank retorted with a goofy grin. He sighed. "I – Dad… Fenton… Joe, I miss him so much." A tear slowly trickled down Frank's cheek.

"He'll find us, Frank. He'll find us." Joe was interrupted from speaking any more when the door flew open and three gruff men (each wearing a ski mask) were standing there.

"Out," one said. Each of the others had a gun. Frank wasn't about to argue, and Joe knew better then to mouth off to people with guns.

Realizing that the boys were tied, each of the two gunmen dragged them out of the car. Frank landed in the mud and got mud on his jeans, but didn't seem to notice. He was too busy trying to see if he recognized the area.

"Greetings," one of the men said through the buzzer. "The code is A, 32, 33, 35, 36. The name of the day is Haggard. One cell, two occupants."

"What is the pass code?"

"Retreating is not optional." The door was opened, and Frank and Joe were forced through.

"Well, now," the man who greeted them said, "What do we have here?"


	7. Chapter 7

Joe's face paled slightly – he recognized the man

Joe's face paled slightly – he recognized the man. So the rumors were true, then. Frank's dad was involved in the assassin organization.

"Does Adams know that his house was searched?" the man demanded.

The driver shrugged, and then said, "I'll give him a ring. He needs to know so he doesn't go back there. He needs to get the hell out of that town or Fenton will whack him with everything he's got. Reynolds, how do you know this Fenton Hardy?"

Joe paused. He decided to go with the lie that was on Wikapedia, and pray Frank played along. "He was my father."

"Was? He's still alive. He _is_ your father. Do you live with him in that town?" The man held the knife open, as if he were going to slice open anyone who made him angry.

"N-no. I live with my uncle."

The man laughed. "So Fenton got both his kids taken away from him. Poetic justice, eh, Martin?"

"No names," Martin barked. He straightened up a little bit.

"What are we going to do with the boys now?"

"Don't know yet," Martin replied, "but surely Adams has a plan. We'll have to convince him that it's too risky to keep them here. Hardy can find us way to easily."

"I know that, and you know that, but Adams can be oblivious. Well, let's just see what we're up against—maybe Hardy will drop it."

Martin snorted. "Yeah, right. If my kid was missing, I'd kill the person who had taken him. He's not going to – say – drop it. At least, not easily. You know?"

"Martin, let's just go," the other man said impatiently. "Let's leave these guys here and go figure out a game plan, okay?"

Frank winced at the thought of them leaving them here, but didn't protest, knowing it was no use.

--

Fenton swore again as he slammed his fist on the table. "I just want to know where my son is!" he yelled.

Sam sighed. "Fenton, we're all working on it, okay? Stop swearing—

you're not helping your case," he said. "Everyone's working on it as hard as they can. And you mean your _sons_."

"I know, I know." Fenton sank down to the bench and sighed. "I'm just worried," he said, "That I'll loose Joe too."

"Listen, we'll find him, Fenton, we always have before. Just relax," he said, then smacked himself on the head.

"What?" Fenton demanded.

"We're not thinking," Sam muttered. "In all the chaos, we forgot that we planted a tracker chip on Joe!"

--

Frank shook his head. "Joe, I've tried to escape before. It's close to impossible and best if you can just wait it out."

"But I can't," Joe protested. "I have to be doing something, Frank, or I'll go crazy."

Smiling, Frank glanced at the ground. He was half-dreading waiting here and half-dreading Fenton would find him. He was sure that it was better if Fenton would find them, but he was pretty sure Fenton didn't want him, since he'd been gone for so long – not to mention he wasn't Fenton's son.

Joe suddenly grinned as the door swung open. "Look, Frank," he said, "an exit."

--

"You're totally right," Fenton said. "I forgot. If only we'd installed one on Frank, too, before--," Fenton forced it out of his mind. It wasn't going to do him any good.

"Let's not focus on that right now," Sam said, "it's not going to help us. Come on. Let's go to the police station."

--

Swinging open the door, Joe and Frank raced through the hall. "Turn right here," he said, opening the door. To his complete surprise, it swung open, too.

"This didn't happen before," he told Joe as the brothers continued their progress.

Joe nodded. He guessed that it was either a) idiots involved or b) they thought Frank would prevent Joe from escaping, or c) that they'd be around to stop it and teach them a lesson.

He hoped it was a mix of a and b, or b, or a, either would be okay. C… not so much.

"Oh, no," Frank wailed, looking through the doorway. His breath caught in his throat. "Joe, I'm gonna die!"


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for all your awesome reviews! I'll respond to them when I can. -Midst Ride

Joe glanced at the door and his eyes widened. He, too, saw Frank's father. "Let's go," he whispered, shoving Frank towards the doorway.

Frank's dad had spotted them, though, and took off. He managed to get ahold of Joe's ankle, causing the boy to trip. He tackled Joe.

Frank skidded to a stop, seeing Joe caught. Joe, however, saw this, and yelled, "Run, Frank!" he knew that his brother would have a much better chance of getting away than him.

Swallowing hard, Frank turned around, looking at his brother. "Joe… I…" he said, not really sure what to say. What should he do?

"Just _go_!" Joe yelled, knowing his dad would have a better chance of finding him then Frank—if his tracker chip was still installed, that was. He wondered why his dad hadn't found him yet.

Frank started to protest—then he took one look at his dad, who had Joe handcuffed and was about to go after him.

Knowing he would have a better chance of helping them both if he ran away, he ran. But he didn't like it – he felt like he was abandoning Joe. He knew it was best, but he hated it.

His dad shoved Joe to the ground and took off after Frank. His father obviously wasn't too worried about Joe getting away – after all, why should he be, he'd handcuffed the poor kid – but Frank knew that he would be upset if Frank escaped.

"Frank, you're making a big mistake," his father roared, but Frank was past listening. He ran out the door. His heart was laboring heavy over leaving Joe there, but he knew he had no choice.

The choices that were harder to make were always those that you couldn't make. They were the ones that were chosen for you.

--

"I can't believe we haven't found them yet!" Fenton was furious at himself. Why hadn't he rescued the boys the second he got there?

"Listen, Fenton, we have eyes on Joe. We should find him very soon," Sam said, trying to reassure his friend. It wasn't working. Joe had bee n missing for almost a day and a half and Fenton was worried. Sam knew he was also worried because Joe let it slip that Fenton didn't look for Frank, and they had no idea what Frank was like now.

Fenton breathed in a deep sigh. "I know, Sam, I know, but I've waited eight years to see my son. How much longer do I have to wait? How much longer do I have to wait before I see him again?"

--Frank found the phone and grimaced, trying to find the number Joe had given him. He could call 911… but, well, there was another story. He quickly found the number and dialed it.

Soon, Fenton picked up the phone, and Frank had to stop himself from crying. He'd waited eight years to see his dad - he could wait a few more hours.

"Fenton Hardy speaking." Crisp. Sharp. Formal.

"Dad." Suddenly, Frank had to choke back tears. "D-daddy. It's me. It's me, Frank."


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I promise I'll respond as soon as I can, but my computer is slow and hates me. _

Fenton breathed a huge sign of relief. "Frank, thank God you're okay," he said. Then it hit him like a load of bricks. "Is Joe with you?"

Frank shook his head before remembering that Fenton couldn't see him over the telephone. "N-no, we were on the verge of escaping, but-," he swallowed, "but he was caught."

"It's okay, Frank," Fenton said reassuringly. "It's not your fault, okay? I don't blame you for any of this. Do you know where you are?"

Frank started to shake his head again but stopped. "Um, I don't know, Grant somewhere," he said, suddenly feeling totally unprepared for this moment.

"I traced the call," someone said in the background.

"Okay, Frank, we'll be there as quick as we can, okay? Look for a black van," Fneton replied.

"Y-yes," Frank said, then hung up the phone and took a quick look around. He spotted a nearby park, and headed that direction. Several mothers were out, playing with their kids. He knew his dad would never shoot at children, so he figured he was okay. He just sat on the bench, praying nobody would find him.

"Oh, God," Frank muttered, suddenly overwhelmed by his utter lack of thanks, "Oh, God, I don't even know if You're real, but how You must be… Thank you, God."

--

"Stop hurting me! I don't know where he is!" Joe yelled as Frank's dad threw him into the doorway. He covered his face as the pistol neared his head.

"Yeah, right, you had the whole thing planned," the man spat. "Just remember, I can have eyes placed throughout the whole US in a second. You wanna resay that?"

"I don't _know_," Joe wailed as the man's hand hesitated a second away from Joe's face.

Frank's dad sighed. "You're as stupid as Frank," he said, "and as babyish as him too. Still crying, and you're seventeen," he commented, slamming the the door shut, leaving Joe with a small smile on his face.

Frank had gotten away and would be getting help, so that was good. Joe had to laugh. He could pass for 17! Wait until he told Phil. Phil was always getting compliments on how well he did for a fourth-grader in the local science fairs. Phil would always say "thank you" and smile as he won a prize in the 17&up devision. It was one of Phil's few victories, and he truly enjoyed it.

Joe winced. He'd forgotten that Phil was Frank's age. Sighing, he looked out the door. He hoped that wherever Frank was, he'd be okay.

But, even _if_ Frank came home with them, would they even be able to recover and function as a family again?


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for veryone's words of encouragement. This chapter is logner, the next one is too... Then it's the end and the posting of my next book!

00--00

Frank sighed as he sat on the cold, hard bench, that overlooked the park. It was shaded so that nobody could see him, but that he could easily see out. Relaxing, he looked out. Fenton still wasn't there… but he would be soon.

He had to be there _soon_. He knew his father could see practically everything, so he was terrified. He was counting on being able to take off running if he saw his father. He told Fenton that he'd meet him at the nearby park he saw.

Fenton had replied that he'd meet him there as soon as possible. Then he'd asked Frank if he'd want the police to pick him up. He'd declined the offer after hearing nearly a minute of silence.

Oh, Frank knew there were trustworthy police, and he knew his father didn't have as many police affiliates as he said, but that did _not _mean he had trusted the police. Not at all…

Swallowing hard, he looked at the road again. Startled, he saw a person fast-approaching.

"Hey! Easy, kid," the voice said, holding out his hands. "I don't mean you no harm—didn't mean to disturb you. But I left something here earlier that I need to pick up."

_This man is not connected to my father. This man is not connected to my father. This man is not connected to my father. This man is not connected to my father. This man is not connected to my father_. "Uh—okay," Frank whispered, looking at the man skeptically.

"Was panicked when I realized I'd lost it—half my work is on the thing," the man replied as he picked up the brief case. "Hey, I'll bet you saved it for me. Thanks, kid."

"Uh—no problem," Frank said, running towards the car that he saw pull up. He hated compliments. They were usually followed by insults—or, worse, beatings.

Frank had mixed emotions as he climbed into the passenger side. He was overjoyed about getting to see Fenton, but incredibly nervous about it. What if Fenton decided he didn't want him after all?

"Frank." All it took was one word from Fenton. "Oh, God, Frank, I'm so sorry…" the words were out of Fenton's mouth before Frank even had a chance to open them."

It was the first time in almost nine years that Frank had been addressed by Fenton, and Frank had to choke back tears – again. Not that it mattered, Fenton was openly crying.

"Oh, Frank, I'm so sorry…" any hard feelings he might have had, Frank dropped them at that exact second; he knew his father had suffered for eight years because of his words, and even though there were thousands of insults Frank cold say, Frank chose not to say them.

With a gentle hand, Frank hugged his father, and the two just hugged, crying.

--Joe was leaning down on the bed, hugging his knees. He was terrified of what was to come. He hadn't had much time to talk to Frank, but he knew that Frank was terrified of his father. He didn't _want _to know what was going to happen to him, someone not related, and someone who had seen the man's face.

He couldn't even comprehend how the last few years of Frank's life had been. The last few years of Frank's life must have been utterly and completely terrifying. He couldn't imagine living with this fear for a _day_, let alone for nine years.

Swallowing, he glanced up as he saw a shadowy figure lurk along the hallway. He drew in a breath as he realized it was Martin, his least favorite of the two thugs. While he could tell the other man had common since, he did not see that Martin had anything of value.

"Hello, Joey," the man said, and Joe froze at the nickname. He tried to force himself to stay calm, but he couldn't. Again he asked himself how Frank tolerated this for nine years—with beatings involved!

"You're going to have to come with me," Martin said, waving his pistol at him. "You have utterly no choice… No choice, no choice at all." He chuckled. "Guess where we're going?"

Joe couldn't talk, so he opted for shrugging instead. "What are you _doing_, not talking to me?" Martin asked, pushing him into the wall. "Now, I asked where do you think we're going?"

"I-I don't k-now," Joe stuttered.

"Ah, ah. Then you're in for a surprise." Martin grinned widely and pulled a passport out of his pocket. "We're going to Mexico."

"Mexico?" Joe questioned, then whished he hadn't when the man slapped him in the face.

"Yes, Mexico! What do you _think_ I said?" Martin asked in a voice that caused Joe to wince. "Let's go—right now."

Swallowing hard, Joe pulled himself off the cot and forced himself to prepare for an emotionally hard journey.

Before anything happened, a voice called out, "This is the FBI and we have a warrant to for your arrest…"


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: My next book should be posted sometime within the next week. Of course, this depends on real life, as I am intent with finishing the book before I post it. Look for it! I'm not 100 sure what the title will be, but it revolves around both Frank and Joe, and, as always, I hope to see you all come back and read & review the story. (The quote referred too at the bottom is Matthew 12:25.)

SIX WEEKS LATER

Things were going nicely in the Hardy household. Though the emotions and rough feelings between Frank and Fenton were by no means healed, they were starting to get along.

Frank still jumped whenever Fenton entered the room. He had trouble eating family meals. Gertrude did her best to help by making Frank's favorite foods, but nothing seemed to work. Joe knew that was because he had trouble eating with others. Frank's counselor warned that it was something Frank would always struggle with, mostly because of the abuse he'd suffered by hsi father.

As for Joe, he already got along like Frank like they were the same friends from "the yester years". Even Joe's other friends all loved Frank, and rumor had it that Callie was going to ask Frank on a date if Frank didn't ask her for one. She was thinking of waiting for the Sallie Hawkins Dance, but Biff joked that she'd loose Frank if she waited that long.

Phil and Frank had become best of friends, the same they were before Frank disappeared all those years ago. Frank had discovered a newfound love for computers, and it was as if that was all he could focus on. He enjoyed them, and so did Phil. They got along extremely well, and even won a huge prize for discovering something that could fight a computer virus.

Laura enjoyed having her son back. They took off the lies on Wikapedia, which said that Frank was dead and that his uncle was fostering Joe. Laura still continued volunteering at the social help clinic, helping woman who were recovering from affairs. Fenton helped with the kids who had been born as a result of the affair, knowing how he himself had sounded. Both were nominated "outstanding citizens" for the Bayport community.

As for Joe's uncle, he discovered that he really enjoyed fostering kids, and started fostering them. He started fostering one the day they signed all the paperwork, and both Frank and Joe liked James, their new foster cousin.

Though the Hardys still had many hurdles to climb, were getting better every day and things were going well. Frank was having less trouble with sleeping, and although he was always panicked he'd have to move away at a moment's notice, he was getting better with his fears and loved his counselor, Tracey.

Even though the Hardys had been through the battle, and come out of the fire alive, they knew it wasn't over. As Frank put it one night when he awoke screaming from his nightmare, it was _never_ over—the hurdles he'd go through weren't just something that could be put out of sight and out of mind. They would have to be dealt with again, and again.

Under Frank's counselor's suggestion, Fenton took Frank to the pound to get a dog—someone who Frank could trust to protect him, and as well as that, always be there for him. Frank loved his new dog and even named him "Joe," so that when the name "Joe" was called throughout the house, neither dog nor boy knew who Frank was referring too, and Frank oftentimes joked he was calling for both.

Though things were getting along well, they knew they had the steepest hurdle to climb… the trial against Frank's father, where everyone, except, of course, Mr. Adams, Frank's father, knew he'd be found guilty. It would be a tough case, one where Frank would be pushed emotionally, physically, and mentally—perhaps beyond the bounds of his imagination. He had seen tougher people quiver under Mr. Adam's defense attorney. 

Still, the Hardys knew they could make it through everything, as long as they were together. After all, as Someone put it long ago, "A house divided against itself will not stand."

THANKS FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS!!

I HOPE TO SEE YOU IN MY NEXT STORY!!


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